Secrets (Pretty Little Liars fan fic!!!!)

Chapter 8__Please, Do Talk About Me When I'm Gone

I hadn't slept at all last night, and no one in their right mind would blame me. Like, at all.

I was still being held hostage, tied to a chair. At least I didn't have the duct tape over my mouth anymore, but I could still feel the stickiness over my lips, and taste the plastic rubber on my tongue.

I was still trying to pull out of the ropes, of the chair, but nothing was working. From the texts that Creep Number One and Creep Number Two had shown me on my phone yesterday, Emily, Aria, Spencer, Hanna and my mom were starting to freak out over my whereabouts until they sent a calming text to each one.

Calming texts that were in complete sentences, and ones that didn't ask about what they were talking about.

I didn't text in full sentences, and I would have definitely asked about what happened to Emily and why Emily had told me not to trust Toby anymore.

I sighed when I got tired of pulling at the never-loosening-their grip-ropes, leaning my head back against the chair behind me.

I didn't know how many days I had been here, but I was still in my Homecoming dress. I wanted out, like, seriously, now, but Creeps were wanting something from my dad that I didn't even bother trying to understand.

Until Creeps came out, Creep #1holding my phone. "Who's Alison?"

"What?" I demanded, looking up. Why would he be asking about Ali?

"Apparently, your little friends know something's wrong because you're not at her memorial."

I squinched my eyes and nose as I leaned my head back again. "You're both asses for making me miss one of my best friend's memorial."

"Alison  . . . . .Alison DiLaurentis?" Creep #2 asked.

"So you know. Then stop asking about it."

"Your mom knows something's up too. And . . . ."

As if on cue, my phone wasn't buzzing, as in a text, but ringing, as in a call, and Creep #1 held up my phone with a cocky smile. "So does your dad."

He answered the phone as he walked out of the room to "negotiate", Creep #2 following after him.

This was all my dad's fault. All of it. Every single piece.

I couldn't believe this. So, did they know that I was missing? Emily, Aria, Spencer and Hanna? What about my mom? My dad was about to find out.

I had been so strong for I didn't know how long. I didn't scare easily. At all. You could've asked Alison how many times she had tried to scare me with one of her millions of games, and she had failed each and every time. Even A, who we had no idea who it was, with their spying techniques and the many things they knew about us and about everything . . .A didn't scare me.

But, now, being in a chair, tied up and in the middle of an abandoned factory, I was a little scared. A little more than a little, but not that much. I would stay strong as long and as hard as I possibly could, because I wasn't going to let these creeps see me break.

I just didn't know who I would be breaking for.

I was supposed to be at Ali's memorial, to see the bench and place that Spencer, Hanna, Emily, Aria and I picked out to have her remembered since I had been as much apart of that as they had.

I just didn't know what to do.

I wanted to get out, to get up, to yell, to scream, but I knew that no one would hear me. Not this far away from anywhere, because I couldn't even hear cars out in the streets. Were we even in town?

After a while, the guys came back into the room, and I stopped trying to get myself free. "Too bad," Creep #1 said. "Your daddy doesn't seem to have enough of what we want, and he doesn't know if he can get enough soon enough."

"Not too bad for me," I said. "Too bad for you. You're the ones that's stupid enough to kidnap and all of this for whatever amount of money. Is that how gambling addicts think and feel these days? The stupid," I looked at Creep #1, "and the clueless?" The last part, I looked over to Creep #2.

"Maybe he needs a little more motivation," Creep #1 said.

I saw my phone still in his hand, and I saw the screen on, and that he was still on call with my dad.

And, for revenge for the statement I had just said, reached one arm bag, swinging it forward and hitting it against my face so hard that it turned my head completely to the other side, my cheek bleeding, and while he had, I let out a cry of pain that wasn't as loud as you'd think it be.

"Dakota!?" I heard my mom scream through the phone.

"What the hell did you do?" my dad demanded, practically screaming.

"Oh, no, what did you do," Creep #1 said, putting the phone to his ear. "You're the one that got yourself and your family into this mess in the first place. We want what we want, Chris. Do it, and your daughter doesn't get hurt anymore. Involve the police, and she dies."

I closed my eyes, looking forward, and feeling like crying, but I kept it in. No, no, no, no, no, no. Please don't get the police involved. I didn't wanna die.

My dad asked something that I couldn't hear, and Creep #1 answered, "I'll let you know how much as soon as I know you're not stupid enough to repeat what happened last time."

Last time?

Creep #1 left the room, and Creep #2 just looked amused as I suffered like this.